To Fall Asleep with a Smile
by Jessiboo-Choka
Summary: fails to see the fluffy goodness of our beloved Quatre-baby till it's almost too late. The HTML fairy is kicking my arse on this one. >


p"To fall asleep with a smile"/p p~A Trowa Story.~/p pBy Jessica Brady/p pLittle note: Just by the way, since Quatre is French for four, "chez quatre" would translate as "the home of four." Just a little multi-culture ^_^/p  
  
pTrowa pulled the pants up to his mid-waist and scowled. Ug... what a disgusting outfit. Nantea would get a kick out of this, if he were here now. "Clown" was just about the only facade he hadn't picked up, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be the one that defeated him. A smile crossed his face as he pulled his bangs further down his eye. The only idiot who had ever been brave enough to tell Trowa that his hair style died in the late 80's had ended up unconscious, plus a beautiful pattern of lipstick- given war paint on his entire body and minus 54 dollars and two visa cards. It wasn't Trowa's usual method of extortion, but it did pay the taxi ride to New York for his next job. Overall, it'd been a nice trade: he'd gotten some quick cash, and somewhere out there was a very nicely made-up guy who could say he'd insulted Trowa Barton and lived./p  
  
pAh, but that was enough of the memories for one flashback. Life was good- Trowa started to giggle maniacally when he heard light footsteps crunching on the sanded floor of the cage room. His eyes opened twice the size of normality (we're thinking Clamp-style eye hugeness here) and the entire sound was similar to "Teeeehehehehehe....eee... ooouhack! hackhack!" He played the "suffering, troubled young boy" card and looked at his hand in shock. He made his expression say "Oh no... I can't believe someone walked in on me! I'm suffering and alone and... sick, too!"/p  
  
pIf someone had heard him start to giggle he would be *so* screwed. /p  
  
pHe turned around, very slowly. Oh, thank God, it was Catherine. This would be a snap. "I... I'm sorry. I'll get back to work..." Catherine put a hand on his shoulder. "Trowa... I can tell that you're hurting. You've been so distant... if there's anything I can help you with, anything I can *do*..." Her eyes became all shiny and shaky. Oh God... he'd seen this look before. He'd have to keep the Trowa Barton Mask of Silence(tm) nice and plastered so a scowl wouldn't come bouncing onto his face or anything random like that. /p  
  
p"Sorry, I don't *do* girls," he muttered.  
  
pCatherine stepped back a step and put her hand to her face. "What?!" /p  
  
p"I said, I'll go check on those squirrels." he spoke, picking up a scrub bucket and sponge. /p  
  
p"Oh... good. Thank you, Trowa," Catherine breathed. She hadn't even known they'd had a squirrel problem... /p  
  
p~*~ /p  
  
pA shimmy squeaky here, a shiney shiney there, a buff buffy buff and we are dooooone... dum dee dum duummm... Trowa was merrily cleaning a few spots off of Heavyarms before the rest of the Gundam pilots woke up. They were hiding out from Oz, or possibly the Rommefeller foundation, whatever, Trowa didn't know, and Operation "Damn, I'm Sexy! (revision IV)" was to be put into play... just as soon as the rest of the pilots woke up./p  
  
pHe grinned at his mirror image in the arm of his Gundam and made several happy, deranged faces at his reflection. He heard the sound of what he guessed was supposed to be very quiet walking. It had to be WuFei- Heero would have pulled it off, Quatre never woke up until 8, and Duo would be singing something stupid. Let's see, what had he been singing yesterday... oh, yes, "Space Cowboy." It still struck him as the most idiotic song he had ever suffered through./p  
  
pTrowa let his mind babble to him for quite some time. It wouldn't be a good idea to turn around- that would make WuFei know that Trowa could tell he was there. And that would never do... A quick smirk and Trowa's shoulders were set to shaking. He squinted his eyes and a few tears dripped from his face, down to the ground where he knew WuFei was standing. /p  
  
p"Oh, Kaya, I'm so sorry, so sorry Kaya... why did you have to die, Kaya..." Ugh, how long did this have to go on... Trowa figured at least 20 more seconds, or it would never be convincing. He counted: one Wu- seduction, two wu-seduction three wu-seduction... /p  
  
pWhen he'd gotten to twenty he wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve and sniffed a few times. He looked to where WuFei was standing and gasped a little. He gulped thoroughly and grabbed hold of the chain. He slid down and blinked a few times once his heels clicked to the floor. "WuFei... I'm so sorry... you shouldn't have to... I'm sorry." /p  
  
pThe Chinese pilot took a step closer to Trowa, whose head dropped to his chest. WuFei wrapped Trowa in an embrace and held him close. *well, back on with the tears!* thought Trowa. "I... know how you are feeling. I... I myself lost my wife... to the destruction of my city not long ago. I'm truly sorry for whatever loss you're dealing with." *Oh damn... this guy's serious, I wonder what he'd do if he knew Kaya was my dog... and he's obviously not gay... this is going to make my job a lot harder...* /p  
  
pTrowa grinned as he smelled Old Spice cologne wafting from his fellow pilot. Maybe he was gay after all. who bothered with that stuff when there wasn't anyone to impress? And there was no way the Old Spice was after- shave. even if WuFei did shave there was no way he used any of that. the gundam pilots shared a bathroom at this base and it'd be gone in a week. At least the kid had taste; that was all Trowa was going to say. /p  
  
pIt was that time again. Trowa could tell that WuFei could have let go a long time ago and still have been the kind, caring friend that. well, that he wasn't, honesty. *I'm, too sexy for my hat, too sexy for clown pants, so sexeh.* the tear-stained boy lifted his head so that he and WuFei were centimeters apart. Ah, the conquest! He lifted his head a little more and if WuFei had breathed their lips would have been touching. And then./p  
  
pWuFei breathed. /p  
  
pIn fact, he took a huge gasp of air. /p  
  
pBefore going into WuFei Rant Mode /p  
  
p"HowmanyofyoufreakingidiotshavetotrytoseducemebeforeIfreakinggetmymessage across! Damn! I like girls! I know that makes me a freak among idiots but for God's sake just let me be heterosexual! Slashes with Duo, I can stand. Heero, bothers me but I can deal with it. But Treize and Zechs?! LISTEN: TREIZE AND ZECHS! Never just ONE of them! Damnit, what do they think I am!! And now YOU! I'MFREAKINGSIIICKOFITAAAALLLDAMNIT!!!!!!"/p  
  
pWuFei hopped into Nataku and proceeded to cry his little eyes out./p  
  
pTrowa stood in the same position for several seconds before breathing again and scratching his head. He turned around. Apparently the noise had awakened one of the base's operators. He was holding a coffee cup and wearing a shirt, which bore the message "OTAKUCON '76" and barely covered his embarrassingly round stomach. He waddled up to Trowa, which was very discomforting. "I can tell you haven't read enough fanfics, Gundam pilot Trowa Barton." From somewhere across the enormous room a voice rang out "I AM DEAAATH!! BWAAAHAHAHAHA!!!" followed by a crash and several screams./p  
  
p"And there's someone who's read one too many." /p  
  
p~*~/p  
  
pTrowa was at a loss. he'd never been. ugh, it was disgusting to say (so pathetic) *rejected* before. the word tasted like morning breath. It was so. civilian. Normal guys got shot down, not Trowa. Who was that kid to turn him away anyway./p  
  
pIt had been one of his best performances, too. Tears and everything./p  
  
pOh, well! Gambatte and all that. This just meant that he'd have to work extra hard in the next couple of weeks before they had to go into battle again. Nantae had said (and this was verbatim, of course. Trowa Barton didn't paraphrase.)/p  
  
p"Get one of those Gundam pilots off our case for a month or so. I don't care how you do it, just use the usual methods. I know you can do it."/p  
  
pWell of *course* he could do it. /p  
  
pThe whole WuFei was an annoying failure, but not a threatening one./p  
  
pHe shrugged and yawned. The day had passed without his noticing. It didn't seem likely that the base had a library, but it couldn't hurt to look. It didn't feel right to let a day by without at least reading something. Honestly, he'd thought being a pilot would be exciting and action-ish. /p  
  
pIt had been a while since he'd had anything to eat. He wondered if any of the other pilots had thought to pick up some cup ramen when they'd been in town the other day. He doubted it. honestly, guns and bombs and more guns seemed higher on these guys' lists than basic freakin' survival./p  
  
pHeaving a sigh brought on by hunger and frustration, Trowa rummaged through the make-shift pantry and found something that looked like food. The print was in some language he didn't recognize, and when he opened the bag a floof of dust wafted into his eyes. Eeguh. how upsetting. Oh well, as long as it was edible and carbohydrate-based, it would do./p  
  
p"Yosh'!" he confirmed, ripping open the bag and dumping the contents onto a paper plate. He coughed, closed his eyes, grabbed a fork, and prepared for the first few what he assumed would be mouth-torturous bites. "Here I gooooo!!"/p  
  
p"Um. Trowa."/p pTrowa opened his eyes. The fork was centimeters from his face, and sitting right across from the table was Quatre Winner, resting his head on folded hands and smiling up at him. Trowa slowly lowered the fork and remembered to shut his mouth./p  
  
pPart of Trowa's shock was due to the image of Quatre sitting at the table. He'd always counted himself as a very observant person, and the fact that he'd just missed a random person sitting there was quite upsetting. Besides, this wasn't the first time Quatre had snuck up on him... to hell with Duo, Quatre had always been the one to randomly bop out of nowhere. So, that wasn't really the reason at all./p  
  
pQuatre was sitting in front of one of the biggest omelets he'd ever encountered, with tiny sprigs of thyme and little hotdog octopus figures on the outside of the plate./p  
  
p"Quatre. how did you. where. I mean, OCTAPI," Trowa sputtered, waving his arm towards the entire ensemble. Quatre grinned and tilted his head./p  
  
p"Yah? I just made it, but I really don't think I'm hungry anymore, so you can." He pushed the plate across the table before Trowa, who had to think about it for about 1.894 seconds before he grabbed a fork and began to shovel eggy goodness into his mouth. This may sound uncharacteristic, but rest assured that this is how Trowa eats omelets. He did attend clown school, after all, and we all know how savage clowns are. /p  
  
pQuatre laughed. "So, can I guess you like it?"  
  
p"Mmrrnphnmonmphmoo!" Trowa exclaimed, as eloquently as ever./p  
  
pThe boys talked some more while Trowa tried to figure out exactly how to eat the little octopus men without looking at their little peppercorn eyes. Or rather, one talked and the other made noises which might have been words had they not been obstructed. Finally Trowa decided that since death was their ultimate fate, the octopus men should be brave about it all, and stuffed them whole into his mouth, enjoying the sharp burst of flavor as his teeth crushed the peppercorns./p  
  
pIt was late by the time they both made their way to their rooms, and it was not until Trowa closed his door, laughing about something Quatre said about some of the girls at the base singing. if he recalled they were singing a song called "Let's talk about Zechs Marquise." to the tune of "Let's talk about sex, baby"( For some reason it had been incredibly amusing when Quatre had sang it) that he realized he hadn't acted like his normal man-trap self that night. Oh well, he still had plenty of time, plenty of Gundam pilots to receive into his welcoming arms. Trowa fell asleep with a smile on his face and a peppercorn on his lip./p  
  
p~*~/p  
  
pThe next couple of weeks were very hectic for the Gundam team. Oz (or the Federation. or maybe it was White Fang.which one were they fighting against now.?!) was drawing ever closer and they still had quite a while before the doctors could be brought in from space to fix Wing Zero's settings. It had still not occurred to Trowa why Wing Zero was so freakin' important. honestly, Heero was just any other pilot, with a different hair style, outfit, character animation./p  
  
pBut maybe Trowa was biased. He had just experienced the second most embarrassing moment in his relatively short life (the first had something to do with a cat named Minou, a jar of midget pickles and a Tonka truck.) He'd interrupted Heero in the middle of his shower. He figured it was a sure-fire way to make his intentions known, and as long as he could use the "Oops! I didn't know YOU were in the shower!" excuse, there was really no reason to fear an extreme thrashing or anything. It might even end up being romantic. Plus, what could a person hurt you with, buck-naked and covered in Herbal Essences?/p  
  
pWell, if there was ever a man who could make a showerhead into a deadly weapon, 'twas Heero Yuy./p  
  
pTrowa was sure that would prove to be important to know sometime in the future. But right now he was just annoyed. he rubbed his hand against the still raw right side of his face where little shower-shaped scars would form sooner or later. Yeeshka. that boy cursed like a sailor. To think he kissed his mother with that mouth. He just hoped Heero's mother had never been foolish enough to try sneaking up on Heero in the shower./p  
  
p./p  
  
pTrowa had fallen into something of a routine, routine being something with which he was definitely NOT comfortable. He woke up, he fiddled around with Heavyarms. although, hell, there was only so much you could clean a Gundam before it becomes all prissy and lisol-smelling and it's just not the testosterone-motivated death machine it should be. Plus, he'd written "Gay and proud!" (rather artistically) all over Heero's precious gundam yesterday, and rather than an engaging confrontation, the only response had been a couple of hours of his own busy cleaning, motivated by his very apologetic nature and a semi-automatic aimed at his temple./p  
  
pWhen he was done and Heero was safely in a different wing of the base, Trowa felt the sting of hunger and dishpan hands. First, to the bathroom. Lotion was unexpectedly common here, and he'd been pleasantly surprised by a recent issue of "Madameoiselle" in the basket next to the toilet. But this was all irrelevant. He walked into the kitchen once again and decided he'd make his own omelet today. He wasn't planning on making any cute little octopus men, they were really more trouble than they were worth. He looked into the freezer./p  
  
pThere were two grape Mr. Freezes and some really old-looking tubs of what probably used to be some potato-based side dish. Nothing there, obviously. He opened the refrigerator. What he saw there astounded him, because./p  
  
pWell, we'll never know for sure, and this is due once again to our good friend Quatre. Trowa got to see a little of the inside, and it looked to him that there was a pizza box and a half-empty jar of peanut butter./p  
  
pQuatre was holding a white plate with a stack of steaming what-seemed-to- be pancakes. But that would have been too easy. Trowa reached out a hand and laid it on his friend's shoulder./p  
  
p"Quatre, did you make crepes?"/p  
  
pThe blond boy nodded./p  
  
p"Quatre, with what did you make crepes?" He scanned the entire room, wondering if there was a secret refrigerator of which all the base members were aware but himself./p  
  
pQuatre smiled, slowly. He touched Trowa's hand on his shoulder. "I just made them, Trowa, silly. Let's go have some, I made way too many."/p  
  
pIt seemed silly to argue./p  
  
pSome hours and some great many crepes later, the rest of the base's present occupants (excluding Heero, who seemed irritated about something) joined the two and many more crepes magically appeared and were just as quickly consumed. Evening became night and each operator, starting with the man whose shirt now bore the advertisement "Subtitle Our Sakura!" (who had insisted that crepes were meant to be dipped in beer. If Quatre hadn't been restrained many people would have been injured). He said "These are good, real good, but if I want to tape Kamikaze Kaitou I've gotta get to the VCR."/p  
  
pHe was the first of a long line, and eventually it was just Trowa and Quatre, sitting among the remains of too many people sitting at a small table. Trowa laughed a little at the leftovers. "You know, Quatre, there are only two men I've ever heard of feeding this many people using such scarce provisions, and I think the first one had a more to start with." He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the smell of fruit, company, and the one sitting across from him. One could go to sleep in the warmth of this night, comforted with the assurance that the world was indeed whole and there was a reason for being. Such contentment was a rarity meant to be cherished./p  
  
pIt was moments before he noticed the arms around his shoulders, and moments more before he thought to stiffen. The wind outdoors became chilled and he wished someone had thought to close the window. He blinked and bent away from Quatre, taking hold of his plate and stacking as many others on top of it as he could. It was a few trips to the sink before he could look back. Quatre was standing in the same spot, his shoulders hunched and his lips pursed together. Trowa figured it was time to leave before he had to see any tears./p  
  
pBefore he left the room he turned. Quatre still stood, and those shoulders were shaking. Trowa looked at the plate he was holding and dropped it into the waste bin. "Cut it out, Quatre." he spat before he walked away. Trowa's chest ached and he wished that Quatre would just shrug, or laugh, or do anything than stand there, hurt. Because of him. It seemed to have no effect. The dusty lights lit highlights on the boy's hair as he pulled out a chair and laid his head in his arms./p  
  
pAlone in his room that night, Trowa stared at the ceiling in the hours before sleep finally graced his side. /p  
  
p./p  
  
pMorning dawned, as it usually does, the sun indifferent to the emotional state of things and the notion that there may be people on its earth who would be perfectly fine with morning *not* dawning./p  
  
pThe options of waking and having to deal with everyone or choosing to stay asleep with the consequences of severe bed-head which, when blessed with bangs such as Trowa's is a fearful thing to behold, forced the pilot into his terrycloth bathrobe and monkey slippers. He decided that if no one had thought to pick up some breakfast cereal this trip into town he would go himself, right now, terrycloth robe and all./p  
  
pSomething was cooking in the living room. It had to be Duo's work- because./p  
  
pWell, who else do YOU know who cooks things in the living room?/p  
  
pNever one to give up in the face of total failure, Trowa pulled his bangs over the stinging cuts still lingering from the recent shower escapade (see?! they do serve a purpose!) and walked over to his fellow pilot, sitting cross-legged besides him./p  
  
p"Oi, Trowa! Sit down! Have a couple s'mores!" Duo sang out, before stuffing his face full of marshmallow goodness. He held out a bag of chocolate to Trowa (whose bangs seemed to be rather sticking to his face more than usual, come to think of it) before grasping it back and dumping it into his mouth. For some reason he did not notice the wrappers on the Hershey squares. he rather thought of them as a sort of salty chocolate additive./p  
  
pTrowa allotted himself a single chocolate square and began to sensually unwrap it (he can do such things). Duo wiggled his eyebrows in response and winked a few more times than was necessary. Our long-banged friend found all this rather silly, but hey-whatever worked. It was when Duo bared his teeth in a frightening grin and gave Trowa one of the biggest glomps he'd ever received that his eyes widened and he wondered if he was in the right fanfic./p  
  
p"Trowaaah!!! Oi, man, let's go to it, neeeee?!"/p  
  
pTrowa was definitely weirded out. But, never the one to let his disorientation overcome him, he gritted his teeth and tickled Duo's stomach a little. Trowa wanted to live through this, after all. Happily affected, the Deathscythe pilot giggled and rolled over. There was just one problem with this./p  
  
pIn what would normally be a very cute, innocent action by the braided wonder, Duo had inadvertently landed in the s'mores-baking circle, and his famous tress was swiftly being eaten by the flames. Letting loose a shriek rivaling that of the famous Ms. Tsukino Usagi, the crackling youth grabbed a bag of marshmallows and fwaped the fire again and again in a gallant attempt to quiet the destruction. While all this was going on, Trowa tried to look concerned but could only manage a look somewhere near "amused." When Duo began to cry and got up to leave the room, cradling his wounded braid, however./p  
  
p"Duo! I can't believe you're walking away. What's more important, me or your hair?"/p  
  
p"Well, duh!" he sobbed, before running into the bathroom to survey the damage./p  
  
pSeveral thousand fangirls leaped from behind the couch and screeched their agreement./p  
  
p"That's what you get for being so grievously out of character, Gundam pilot Duo Maxwell," Otaku man scolded./p  
  
p~*~/p  
  
pWell, all things considering, Trowa decided he'd have to chalk this all up as a botched endeavor. After all, he'd been screamed at, beaten with a shower head, and rejected in lieu of a bunch of freakin' hair. He didn't know why fangirls didn't defend HIS hair. He had interesting hair./p  
  
pHe walked down the hall to the equipment that served as his room while they were staying at the base. He passed Quatre's room- the kid had somehow found the time to cross-stitch a little sign which read "Chez 4"- rather clever, actually, but you'd think he'd have had something better to do during wartime. Like, fighting or something. Anyone who made octopus men out of sheer willpower deserved lead character status, and Heero's fandom still baffled him./p  
  
pHe had had quite a while to think before submitting to sleep that last night, and plenty of time to go over what did and didn't happen. He finally decided why he had not, and *would* not allow himself to use Quatre like that. First of all, it had been a bad time. It wasn't as if Trowa didn't find Quatre attractive. It's just that when you've been snacking on French delicacies for the entire evening, and prospect of romantic sentiment is singularly unsettling./p  
  
pMore than that, going after someone who gave you an omelet with little. and then freakin' *hugged* you. well, not only was there no challenge in it, it also felt rotten. Like stealing money from a leper or something. But there was the fact that he was being paid for putting the Gundam pilots out of commission- well, only one left to try, now... He supposed he'd start working with Quatre tomorrow. It wasn't like he had a lot of options left, after all./p  
  
pHe figured it was just about time to contact Nantae, anyway. It had been a few weeks since he'd last seen his employer's lovely face. How anyone could look quite so like a frog and still be counted as a human was beyond him. Trowa pulled out his little compact (which looked much like Relena's) and poked at the powder./p  
  
p"Oi there, Nantae, I've got to tell you, I'm not having a lot of success here."/p  
  
pThe froggish little man scratched his face. "Well. that's not very like you, Trowa-san. I'd hoped that by this time you'd at least have two of them under your control. you did SO well in our earlier cases. gods, Oz is going to."/p  
  
pTrowa groaned. "I don't really care about Oz, Nantae. This is personal now. I've never had this problem, ever. These people have serious issues. I swear to you, they're all totally psychotic. I was thinking of calling it quits and just cutting off all-"/p  
  
p"Well, I suggest you get moving, Barton! If you want your share of the cash, you'd best get off your ass and go to it, now. You haven't reported anything on the pilot of Sandrock, and if you forget you're under contract you're going to be forgetting a lot of other things too. I'm warning you- "/p  
  
p"You're WARNING me. I don't think you recall who set this deal up in the first place. And if I don't want to do anything to the forth pilot, you'd better believe that nothing's GOING --" Someone in front of him coughed lightly. Oh God. Trowa knew this would happen. it was just too ironic not to. He slowly lowered the compact from his face and found himself staring into a couple of the bluest eyes he'd seen in a long time. Needless to mention, he snapped the compact shut pretty quickly./p  
  
p"Hi. Quatre." *maybe he didn't hear anything. well, the worst that'll happen then is he'll think I wear face powder. And I don't really care about that.*/p  
  
p"Hello yourself, Trowa." When he looked closer, it was easier to see into the eyes and notice that beyond the blue were veins of red, and his that eyelashes fluttered rarely enough to avoid spilling what moisture remained there from before. Quatre took advantage of the silence to run his finger down the other boy's cheek. "You gonna run away now?" he whispered. Trowa shook his head. Not yet, at any rate./p  
  
pTrowa followed Quatre into his room and sat down on the modest twin bed. How cute. there was a little cup 'o tea decal on the sheets. It would have been folly to wonder where the heir had acquired this talent. They seemed to spring out of a vacuum./p  
  
p"Trowa. let me show you some outfits I bought while I was in town yesterday." He pulled his closet open. There were several hangers adorned with khaki pants, pastel shirts, and vests. Trowa tried to catch Quatre's eyes but they seemed to look anywhere in the room but at him./p  
  
p"They're very nice Quatre. I like your clothes very much."/p  
  
pQuatre smiled faintly. "No, Trowa, not *those* clothes. These right here," he purred. The backing opened forward and our hero found himself staring at leather. leather in every cut and design he'd *never* thought about./p  
  
pWell, here was a revelation./p  
  
p"Qua. Quatre. y- you WEAR those?!" Trowa sqeaked. Quatre blushed./p  
  
p"Oh no, I don't wear these-" Trowa's eyes uncrossed. "Or, rather. I try not to wear them for very long." He winked. *holy shoes, this world is nuts.*/p  
  
pQuatre covered his mouth and doubled over into giggles. "I'm sorry, Trowa, I just wanted to see what you'd say. These were in my room when I got here. I haven't been here *that* long, you know." A couple of blinks and Trowa decided he could think logically again. The prospect of Quatre in leather, while intriguing in the privacy of one's own fantasy world, had proved terrifyingly disturbing in real life./p  
  
pA sigh, and another presence on the bed. "I've been watching you, with WuFei, with Duo, with. Heero..." Quatre looked to see if Trowa was blushing as he dang well should be. Good thing he was, too. Grasping a handful of the teacup-decal sheets and leaning forward, Quatre took a breath. "It *hurts*, Trowa! I thought, does he hate me, does he think I'm boring, is he annoyed with me. I don't care what you're trying to do! I don't! I've. since the first time I saw you, and don't you try- All I've *wanted*- you don't have-" Tears began to run down his cheeks but he didn't look away. Trowa reached his hand but Quatre slapped it back./p  
  
p"Don't! You can see me cry. I'm not telling you all this to make you happy, or to make you feel bad, or anything. No. It's not going to be like that. It's going to be like this," he said, as he pulled Trowa towards him and kissed him. When Quatre finally let Trowa go, he looked away and furiously wiped the tears from his eyes./p  
  
p"I'm not expecting anything. I just want to know how you feel."/p  
  
pTrowa smiled. He realized that it was probably not the time, and he should probably be more serious. But he'd been serious, he'd been rational, he'd lived for himself. And Quatre in front of him was the most irrational sensation he'd ever experienced./p  
  
p"How I feel."/p  
  
pQuatre nodded./p  
  
p"I feel." he repeated, more softly. He touched Quatre's forehead and traced the line of his face down to his chin, following down his neck in an unbroken line./p  
  
p"I know you, Quatre. I've felt this before. If not in a hundred thousand lifetimes, than in a hundred thousand dreams."/p  
  
pHe wasn't sure if he'd said it out loud or just thought it, but he felt his fingers becoming folded into a very warm hand and leaned into the embrace, this time. He found Quatre's ear and touched his mouth next to it./p  
  
p"Let's try to figure this out, ok? I don't think I've ever dealt with the real thing before."/p  
  
p"Will you help me make waffles tomorrow morning? They're not as easy as they look, you know." Trowa nodded, not wanting to mar the scene with his voice. "Why don't you sleep here tonight. The bed isn't very big, but then, neither are we."/p  
  
pTrowa had to laugh. He pulled Quatre down a little and rested his chin on the top of his head. "You're not very big, you mean. I'm not 5'1."/p  
  
p"Oh, and you're sure walking in the clouds. How it up there anyway, in that amazing 5'3 range?" Pulling Trowa back down by his bangs, Quatre turned the both of them around and laughed as they descended. "Trowa, we're falling."/p  
  
pTheir heads hit the pillow in succession./p  
  
p"Yea. I know."/p 


End file.
